‘Probably not,’ Vee says. She’s torn between continuing to do what she was doing – she knows she’s within her rights, knows she has nothing to hide – and justifying herself. She’s outnumbered, so, ‘I’m a photographer with the Colchester Echo. But I’m really just here for my own’ – what’s the word? Not ‘amusement’, not ‘satisfaction’ – ‘it’s my day off, and I wanted to see for myself what was going on.’

And now the woman offers a hand to shake. Vee takes it, suddenly self-conscious about her bubble-gum nail polish. She doesn’t wear her engagement ring to work, and she didn’t put it on this morning. She tells Barry it’s because she wouldn’t want to lose it but she’s not sure that’s really the reason. It feels awkward, still, like the word ‘fiancée’ does.

‘Leonie Barratt.’

‘Veronica Moon,’ Vee says again, ‘Vee, for short.’

‘Hello, Vee,’ Leonie says, letting go of her hand and smiling. ‘I’m writing this up for my column in This Month. Well, I might be. You came to have a look? What do you make of it?’ The woman has clear skin, brown eyes, and her face, bare of makeup, is dominated by a large, bony nose. Vee becomes conscious of the half-hour she spent doing her hair and putting on foundation, blush and eyeshadow before she left the house. Putting a face on, her mum used to call it. Vee knows what she meant. She doesn’t always feel as though her own face is enough. This woman – Leonie’s not a name Vee has heard before – apparently has no such problem.

‘Well,’ Vee says, ‘I’m all for it. Obviously.’

One of the women behind Leonie titters, but Leonie ignores her. ‘Striking? Or equal pay?’

‘Both.’ Vee replaces the lens cap, and starts to turn away. If none of the Ford workers are questioning her motives, she doesn’t really see why a journalist and her up-themselves mates should be. And she gets enough of that sort of thing at work, from the men.

‘Do you want me to introduce you to some people? So you can get some photos?’ Leonie asks.

‘No thank you,’ Vee says. She’s not sure what will happen if she starts to look official and it gets back to Bob. For fear of sounding rude, she adds, ‘I don’t want to get in the way. I’m not really supposed to be here.’

The women with Leonie laugh, and one of them says, ‘You’re missing the point, sister,’ in a tone that makes Vee squirm. She hoists her bag on to her shoulder, ready to make a circuit of the action, shoot the last half-dozen frames on her film, and then head back to the car.

Better to make a move, than stay to be laughed at.